D'Artagnan left the hotel instead of going up at once toKitty's chamber, as she endeavored to persuade him to do - andthat for two reasons: the first, because by this means heshould escape reproaches, recriminations, and prayers; thesecond, because be was not sorry to have an opportunity ofreading his own thoughts and endeavoring, if possible, tofathom those of this woman.

What was most clear in the matter was that D'Artagnan lovedMilady like a madman, and that she did not love him at all.In an instant D'Artagnan perceived that the best way inwhich he could act would be to go home and write Milady along letter, in which he would confess to her that he and DeWardes were, up to the present moment absolutely the same,and that consequently he could not undertake, withoutcommitting suicide, to kill the Comte de Wardes. But bealso was spurred on by a ferocious desire of vengeance. Hewished to subdue this woman in his own name; and as thisvengeance appeared to him to have a certain sweetness in it,he could not make up his mind to renounce it.

He walked six or seven times round the Place Royale, turningat every ten steps to look at the light in Milady'sapartment, which was to be seen through the blinds. It wasevident that this time the young woman was not in such hasteto retire to her apartment as she had been the first.

At length the light disappeared. With this light wasextinguished the last irresolution in the heart ofD'Artagnan. He recalled to his mind the details of thefirst night, and with a beating heart and a brain on fire here-entered the hotel and flew toward Kitty's chamber.

The poor girl, pale as death and trembling in all her limbs,wished to delay her lover; but Milady, with her ear on thewatch, had heard the noise D'Artagnan had made, and openingthe door, said, "Come in."

All this was of such incredible immodesty, of such monstrouseffrontery, that D'Artagnan could scarcely believe what hesaw or what he heard. He imagined himself to be drawn intoone of those fantastic intrigues one meets in dreams. He,however, darted not the less quickly toward Milady, yieldingto that magnetic attraction which the loadstone exercisesover iron.

As the door closed after them Kitty rushed toward it.Jealousy, fury, offended pride, all the passions in shortthat dispute the heart of an outraged woman in love, urgedher to make a revelation; but she reflected that she wouldbe totally lost if she confessed having assisted in such amachination, and above all, that D'Artagnan would also belost to her forever. This last thought of love counseledher to make this last sacrifice.

D'Artagnan, on his part, had gained the summit of all hiswishes. It was no longer a rival who was beloved; it washimself who was apparently beloved. A secret voicewhispered to him, at the bottom of his heart, that he wasbut an instrument of vengeance, that he was only caressedtill he had given death; but pride, but self-love, butmadness silenced this voice and stifled its murmurs. Andthen our Gascon, with that large quantity of conceit whichwe know he possessed, compared himself with De Wardes, andasked himself why, after all, he should not be beloved forhimself?

He was absorbed entirely by the sensations of the moment.Milady was no longer for him that woman of fatal intentionswho had for a moment terrified him; she was an ardent,passionate mistress, abandoning herself to love which shealso seemed to feel. Two hours thus glided away. When thetransports of the two lovers were calmer, Milady, who hadnot the same motives for forgetfulness that D'Artagnan had,was the first to return to reality, and asked the young manif the means which were on the morrow to bring on theencounter between him and De Wardes were already arranged inhis mind.

But D'Artagnan, whose ideas had taken quite another course,forgot himself like a fool, and answered gallantly that itwas too late to think about duels and sword thrusts.

This coldness toward the only interests that occupied hermind terrified Milady, whose questions became more pressing.

Then D'Artagnan, who had never seriously thought of thisimpossible duel, endeavored to turn the conversation; but hecould not succeed. Milady kept him within the limits shehad traced beforehand with her irresistible spirit and heriron will.

D'Artagnan fancied himself very cunning when advising Miladyto renounce, by pardoning De Wardes, the furious projectsshe had formed.

But at the first word the young woman started, and exclaimedin a sharp, bantering tone. which sounded strangely in thedarkness, "Are you afraid, dear Monsieur D'Artagnan?"

"You cannot think so, dear love!" replied D'Artagnan; "butnow, suppose this poor Comte de Wardes were less guilty thanyou think him?"

"At all events," said Milady, seriously, "he has deceivedme, and from the moment he deceived me, he merited death."

"He shall die, then, since you condemn him!" saidD'Artagnan, in so firm a tone that it appeared to Milady anundoubted proof of devotion. This reassured her.

We cannot say how long the night seemed to Milady, butD'Artagnan believed it to be hardly two hours before thedaylight peeped through the window blinds, and invaded thechamber with its paleness. Seeing D'Artagnan about to leaveher, Milady recalled his promise to avenge her on the Comtede Wardes.

"I am quite ready," said D'Artagnan; "but in the first placeI should like to be certain of one thing."

"And what is that?" asked Milady.

"That is, whether you really love me?"

"I have given you proof of that, it seems to me."

"And I am yours, body and soul!"

"Thanks, my brave lover; but as you are satisfied of mylove, you must, in your turn, satisfy me of yours. Is itnot so?"

"Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say," repliedD'Artagnan, "do you not entertain a little fear on myaccount?"

"What have I to fear?"

"Why, that I may be dangerously wounded - killed even."

"Impossible!" cried Milady, "you are such a valiant man, andsuch an expert swordsman."

"You would not, then, prefer a method," resumed D'Artagnan,"which would equally avenge you while rendering the combatuseless?"

Milady looked at her lover in silence. The pale light ofthe first rays of day gave to her clear eyes a strangelyfrightful expression.

"Really," said she, "I believe you now begin to hesitate."

"No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte deWardes, since you have ceased to love him. I think that aman must be so severely punished by the loss of your lovethat he stands in need of no other chastisement."

"Who told you that I loved him?" asked Milady, sharply.

"At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too muchfatuity, that you love another," said the young man, in acaressing tone, "and I repeat that I am really interestedfor the count."

"You?" asked Milady.

"Yes, I."

"And why YOU?"

"Because I alone know - "

"What?"

"That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guiltytoward you as he appears."

"Indeed!" said Milady, in an anxious tone; "explainyourself, for I really cannot tell what you mean."

And she looked at D'Artagnan, who embraced her tenderly,with eyes which seemed to burn themselves away.

"Yes; I am a man of honor," said D'Artagnan, determined tocome to an end, "and since your love is mine, and I amsatisfied I possess it - for I do possess it, do I not?"

"Entirely; go on."

"Well, I feel as if transformed - a confession weighs on mymind."

"A confession!"

"If I had the least doubt of your love I would not make it,but you love me, my beautiful mistress, do you not?"

"Without doubt."

"Then if through excess of love I have rendered myselfculpable toward you, you will pardon me?"

"Perhaps."

D'Artagnan tried with his sweetest smile to touch his lipsto Milady's, but she evaded him.

"This confession," said she, growing paler, "what is thisconfession?"

"You gave De Wardes a meeting on Thursday last in this veryroom, did you not?"

"No, no! It is not true," said Milady, in a tone of voice sofirm, and with a countenance so unchanged, that ifD'Artagnan had not been in such perfect possession of thefact, he would have doubted.

"Do not lie, my angel," said D'Artagnan, smiling; "thatwould be useless."

"What do you mean? Speak! you kill me."

"Be satisfied; you are not guilty toward me, and I havealready pardoned you."

"What next? what next?"

"De Wardes cannot boast of anything."

"How is that? You told me yourself that that ring - "

"That ring I have! The Comte de Wardes of Thursday and theD'Artagnan of today are the same person."

The imprudent young man expected a surprise, mixed withshame - a slight storm which would resolve itself into tears;but he was strangely deceived, and his error was not of longduration.

Pale and trembling, Milady repulsed D'Artagnan's attemptedembrace by a violent blow on the chest, as she sprang out ofbed.

It was almost broad daylight.

D'Artagnan detained her by her night dress of fine Indialinen, to implore her pardon; but she, with a strongmovement, tried to escape. Then the cambric was torn fromher beautiful shoulders; and on one of those lovelyshoulders, round and white, D'Artagnan recognized, withinexpressible astonishment, the FLEUR-DE-LIS - that indeliblemark which the hand of the infamous executioner hadimprinted.

"Great God!" cried D'Artagnan, loosing his hold of herdress, and remaining mute, motionless, and frozen.

But Milady felt herself denounced even by his terror. Hehad doubtless seen all. The young man now knew her secret,her terrible secret - the secret she concealed even from hermaid with such care, the secret of which all the world wasignorant, except himself.

She turned upon him, no longer like a furious woman, butlike a wounded panther.

"Ah, wretch!" cried she, "you have basely betrayed me, andstill more, you have my secret! You shall die."

And she flew to a little inlaid casket which stood upon thedressing table, opened it with a feverish and tremblingband, drew from it a small poniard, with a golden haft and asharp thin blade, and then threw herself with a bound uponD'Artagnan.

Although the young man was brave, as we know, he wasterrified at that wild countenance, those terribly dilatedpupils, those pale cheeks, and those bleeding lips. Herecoiled to the other side of the room as he would have donefrom a serpent which was crawling toward him, and his swordcoming in contact with his nervous hand, he drew it almostunconsciously from the scabbard. But without taking anyheed of the sword, Milady endeavored to get near enough tohim to stab him, and did not stop till she felt the sharppoint at her throat.

She then tried to seize the sword with her hands; butD'Artagnan kept it free from her grasp, and presenting thepoint, sometimes at her eyes, sometimes at her breast,compelled her to glide behind the bedstead, while he aimedat making his retreat by the door which led to Kitty'sapartment.

Milady during this time continued to strike at him withhorrible fury, screaming in a formidable way.

As all this, however, bore some resemblance to a duel,D'Artagnan began to recover himself little by little.

"Well, beautiful lady, very well," said be; "but, PARDIEU,if you don't calm yourself, I will design a secondFLEUR-DE-LIS upon one of those pretty checks!"

"Scoundrel, infamous scoundrel!" howled Milady.

But D'Artagnan, still keeping on the defensive, drew near toKitty's door. At the noise they made, she in overturningthe furniture in her efforts to get at him, he in screeninghimself behind the furniture to keep out of her reach, Kittyopened the door. D'Artagnan, who had unceasingly maneuveredto gain this point, was not at more than three paces fromit. With one spring he flew from the chamber of Milady intothat of the maid, and quick as lightning, he slammed to thedoor, and placed all his weight against it, while Kittypushed the bolts.

Then Milady attempted to tear down the doorcase, with astrength apparently above that of a woman; but finding shecould not accomplish this, she in her fury stabbed at thedoor with her poniard, the point of which repeatedlyglittered through the wood. Every blow was accompanied withterrible imprecations.

"Quick, Kitty, quick!" said D'Artagnan, in a low voice, assoon as the bolts were fast, "let me get out of the hotel;for if we leave her time to turn round, she will have mekilled by the servants."

"But you can't go out so," said Kitty; "you are naked."

"That's true," said D'Artagnan, then first thinking of thecostume he found himself in, "that's true. But dress me aswell as you are able, only make haste; think, my dear girl,it's life and death!"

Kitty was but too well aware of that. In a turn of the handshe muffled him up in a flowered robe, a large hood, and acloak. She gave him some slippers, in which he placed hisnaked feet, and then conducted him down the stairs. It wastime. Milady had already rung her bell, and roused thewhole hotel. The porter was drawing the cord at the momentMilady cried from her window, "Don't open!"

The young man fled while she was still threatening him withan impotent gesture. The moment she lost sight of him,Milady tumbled fainting into her chamber.